


Saru mo Ki Kara Ochiru

by hanakoanime



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Bromance, M/M, song over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanakoanime/pseuds/hanakoanime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many circumstances come to bring them together, but Genichirou questions whether he deserves the company of Seiichi.  An introspective look on Genichirou and his take on the relationship between him and Seiichi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saru mo Ki Kara Ochiru

The first time Genichirou met Seiichi was when they were five.  He had been walking around, memorizing the paths in the unfortunate case that he was to get lost (at least, that was his excuse from escaping from his parents), and he stumbled upon a boy with blue hair.  Genichirou remembered the reason he ventured towards the boy, breaking away from the mission—he had thought the hair was unnatural, something unique and alien, and his undivided attention was gained.

He just stared at the boy, confused as to why he had his knees pulled close to his body, wrapping his arms around them.  Genichirou had the urge to hug him (even if the idea did horrify him—Genichirou was not one for any type of physical contact despite his mother’s attempts to get him to open up.)  However, suppressing the need to just run and not look back, Genichirou ended up next to him, struggling to come up with the words to get the other to come out of his metaphorical shell.

It didn’t take long, though, for the other to speak up.  It was confusing though, the words that left the boy’s mouth being much more complex than he was used to.  “We were abandoned by him because he thought that mother was too useless.  He just wanted someone with ‘huge boobs’, whatever that means.” 

Genichorou was almost certain that the other didn’t even recognize his presence (it sounded as if those words were meant for the other and not him), and he was tempted to leave, but something about this boy had enraptured him, tempting him in the worst way possible—the curious nature of children had convinced him to stay to hear out the story.

However, the child stopped speaking, and Genichirou was tempted to ask for more, much more than he had heard, but the child, looking much more fragile than Genichirou thought was possible, looked up and stared.

He couldn’t help but think that this boy, who looked to be no older than him (and he wouldn’t have been shocked if it turned out the boy sitting before him like a cornered, defeated animal was younger) was either playing a really good game or muttering something that he heard elsewhere.

Finally working up the courage, Genichirou spoke.  “Hello.  I’m sorry, but who are you?”  Subtly and beating around the bush had never been his specialty (in fact, Yukimura said he needed to learn tact a year or two later).

The other’s cerulean eyes, bright with unshed tears, stared at him, and Genichirou found himself at a loss of words, something unusual—his grandfather had ensured that he had something to say most of the time, but the lessons were useless at this point.

“My name is Yukimura Seiichi.”  His eyes, while bright with those tears, were also dull with lifelessness, which he had only seen once with one of his distant relatives found no reason to live (according to his mother when he had asked about that look later.)

It flashed briefly in his mind, the death of said relative, and while he didn’t understand the significance of death, he knew that Yukimura Seiichi didn’t deserve to go through it. Pulling the other close with one arm in a semi-resemblance of a hug, the two sat there against the wall for a while, allowing the silence to offer some comfort.

Feeling the other (Yukimura, his brain helpfully supplied) shift a bit, Genichirou removed his arms and turned completely to face him.  “Thank you for that, but may I ask for a name?”  Genichirou nearly missed the question, instead focusing on how eloquent his newfound acquaintance was.

“My name?”  Noticing the other’s stare (almost silently commenting on his stupidity), he continued on.  “My name is Sanada Genichirou.”  He felt a bit clumsy with his words, nowhere near as articulate as his acquaintance but still intelligent enough to understand most, if not all, the words the other spoke.  (Later on, he would learn that Seiichi had learned all that he had said in the beginning about his “asshole of a father”, as given by his mother, from listening in to conversations surrounding him.)

A small, slight smile made its way on Yukimura’s face, and Genichirou found himself thinking that the other looked _nice_ with that slight smile on his face; it looked much better than that heart wrenching tear-streaked look he had moments earlier.  In a matter of seconds, he found himself completely taken by surprised when the other started to laugh about something insignificant (he later found out that Seiichi was laughing at the fact that he looked so _cute_ blushing a bright red for no apparent reason).

“Sanada-san,” Yukimura said suddenly, and the other looked up, shocked that he was being addressed so formally (his parents’ friends would always treat him as if he was facing some mental disorder, not as a normal child with a slightly higher intelligence, and he had no friends).  “Doesn’t that look interesting?”

Genichirou quickly turned to look in the same direction that Yukimura was (he hadn’t quite realized that he redirected his body to face Yukimura), and stared.  The blue-haired boy hadn’t been lying when he implied through question that the sport was interesting.  In fact, staring unabashedly, Genichirou found himself wishing that he had the skill and power to pull off moves like that when playing with a racket and a ball.

Before he knew it, Yukimura was holding his hand and dragging him off towards the courts.  Genichirou, however, couldn’t find it in himself to be angered by Yukimura’s whim.  If anything, he was only intrigued by the sudden change in mood—this same person was the one crying his heart out only a few moments before.

“Could we please try playing?”  Yukimura asked politely, but Genichirou swore he heard a vague threat within that question.  However, he passed it off as his imagination (he did have one, even if his family often joked that he didn’t understand the concept of imagining.)

The seniors agreed quite quickly, and Genichirou found that despite the thoughts going through his head, this sport was harder than it originally looked.  He knew that it was implausible to think he could pull off any of the moves that the others had, but he at least expected that he would be able to at least hit the ball with ease.

Instead, he missed, the racket nearly flying out of his hand, and he watched Yukimura struggle a bit with the racket.  It might have been stupid, but Genichirou was glad that he wasn’t the only one struggling with the concept of this sport—he had to rewrite his original idea of his concept (“you hit a ball with a stick”), and he found that he had fun despite the failure of gaining any point on his seniors.  It didn’t help that Genichirou suspected them of holding back on the two “children”.

Soon after that, he found himself laughing slightly (another shocking event that would cause his parents to frantically call the doctor for any recommendations for a therapist or psychologist) as Yukimura showed that he was a natural at tennis.  While he wasn’t playing at the level of their seniors—Genichirou would never expect that since they had much more experience than they did—Yukimura showed that he was much better at it than Genichirou.

By the end of the first day, Genichirou was pleased to say that he could hold the racket and hit a ball without the racket either flying into his opponent or into the chain fence behind him.  He counted that as an accomplishment considering the trouble he had with the sport in the beginning. 

“Sanada-san, let’s play again tomorrow.”  Yukimura’s eyes were bright, and Genichirou found that it was hard to resist those eyes, even if he knew that he might break the promise because he didn’t know if his parents would allow him to come to the park tomorrow.

Looking away, blushing slightly, Genichirou replied, “I will see if I can.”  That was the best he could do because, at the moment, he wasn’t able to give a positive or negative answer—if he said no and came to the park tomorrow, Yukimura would think that he didn’t care (which was far from the truth), and if he said yes and didn’t come because his parents wouldn’t allow him to, Yukimura would assume that he hated the other (which was far from the truth).

For the next hour or so (Genichirou didn’t know the time when he was five, yet he assumed it was before “six” because the sun was out, though the sun was out absurdly late those days) they talked about nothing and everything, instantly becoming the best of friends. 

His parents were pleased about this development (and he swore he heard his mother say something about him being an “antisocial rock”, but Genichirou chose to ignore that comment), and he was allowed to go to the park as often as he wished as long as Yukimura was there and he had no other obligations.  Needless to say, by the end of the month, the two of them had become closer, and he found himself craving Yukimura’s presence.

Before he knew it, they were extremely close, to the point where one wouldn’t be without the other, and Genichirou couldn’t help but think that this was the way he would like things to be.  It was a relatively easy childhood, one spent on the tennis courts, in the classroom or in the dojo where he learned kendo. 

Then he reached a certain age where girls were supposedly attractive and they stopped having “cooties” (even if Genichirou did believe that their existence was a bit farfetched.)  However, that didn’t detract him from spending time with Yukimura—in fact, they spent more time together hiding from girls who assumed they were attracted to them for some reason or other.

Genichirou vaguely remembered hiding in a closet once with Yukimura—avoiding the girls, yet he couldn’t remember exactly why they chose that place—and his teacher coming in to find them squished in the cramped place.  After that, the jokes about the two of them (having just come out of sex ed) started, most of them quite innocent yet they sounded dirty to him back in the days where sex was still a foreign concept, where children believed that it only occurred between a guy and a girl.

It was around this time that girls became attractive to Yukimura—at least, Genichirou assumed it to be attraction—and the other had started to spend more time looking at them (even if five seconds was not that much of an improvement from three)—and he was spending more time listening to the other boys talk about girls.

He would watch as Yukimura moved from conversation to conversation (however, when looking back at it, Genichirou admitted it was like Yukimura was being dragged into a new conversation every minute) talking about girls.  He could see the faint reluctance in Yukimura’s eyes, and instinctively knew that his friend didn’t like the topic.  However, Genichirou played it off as shyness, and he deluded himself into thinking that Yukimura was interested in girls, in their rapidly changing bodied, and he wondered about the appeal.  (Even back then, while not knowing the name of it, he knew he was not attracted to the opposite sex.)

There was no doubt that it would eventually lead to Yukimura coming to him for help.  It was just another school day (Genichirou couldn’t remember the exact season, yet he’s almost certain it was spring) when his friend, his _only_ true friend, came up to him and asked for advice.

It wasn’t as spectacular as he thought it would be—if anything, Genichirou knew that Yukimura did things with a flare, so it was shocking to hear of a _normal_ plan—but he did his best to guide his friend through this horrible experience (yet a part of him wondered about Yukimura’s intelligence at the time as he had even _less_ experience with girls than the other did.)

The fiasco that had followed was amusing to both parties (Yukimura and the girl), and he had just wanted to hide under a rock.  He hadn’t expected it to go that horribly, and he was horrified that he let his friend down.  Instead of dwelling too much on the unexpected, Genichirou dedicated himself to being the best friend he could be.  From there, he started to observe the other sex, taking note on their everyday actions.

He hoped, that with doing this, he could offer decent advice to Yukimura whenever the other desired to have some help.  It wasn’t long until Yukimura approached him once again for help with a girl.  Genichirou, though blushing and stuttering, managed to offer some decent-sounding advice to woo the girl. 

To say he was flabbergasted when his friend came back with a negative was an understatement.  Genichirou offered a shoulder to cry on, but the other refused to use it.  (In hindsight, Yukimura had seemed a bit too happy for someone that had been rejected by the person he liked.)  Instead, after that second horrible experience, Yukimura started to spend more time with him.

“Yukimura—”

“Call me Seiichi,” Yukimura said suddenly, staring at the tennis court.  They were waiting for their turn, and the upper classmen said that they weren’t allowed to use the courts until they were done with it (Genichirou interpreted that as “get away babies”—he wasn’t far from the truth.)

Feeling a bit flustered, though Genichirou knew that Yukimura oftentimes brought up this topic, he replied, “I could never do that.”  It was not only rude of him—Genichirou had long ago accepted that Yukimura was on a different plane of existence than him—but he also was unused to referring to anyone but himself with their given name.

“Genichirou, please.”  Yukimura stared at him with those bright, pleading eyes, and he knew that it was a lost cause.  Like always, he would promise to call the other by his first name, and usually keep it up for a day at most, and then revert back into calling him “Yukimura”. 

“As you wish, Seiichi.”  Ignoring the disproving look he received for those words, Genichirou resigned himself to repeating this same scenario. 

Yukimura suddenly stood and moved towards the seniors on the court.  “If I win against all of you, we get the courts.  How about it,” he asked.  With that look in Yukimura’s eyes, Genichirou knew that the other would not back down unless the upper classmen went with his deal.

They quickly agreed to it, and Genichirou almost pitied them for such a foolish deal.  However, he desired the court almost as much as Yukimura did, so he passively watched as his friend defeated each one.  By the end of ten minutes, all had been defeated (a group of three), and they gained the courts after a few subtle threats made by Yukimura himself.

After that, they had a few practice games, all won by Yukimura himself, and despite all those losses, Genichirou found that he had _fun_ during those games.  While he wasn’t the Child of God (yet), Genichirou had to admit that Yukimura was above the normal standards (and maybe, by chance, he was too.) 

“Maybe if you didn’t frown so much…” Even from here, he could tell that Yukimura was teasing him though he sounded completely serious.  Genichirou still flushed, aggravated and embarrassed by Yukimura’s constant comments about him looking scary because he refused to smile as often as he could (it wasn’t his fault that his peers were complete idiots that needed their hands held.)

“I see,” was all he could say because, in a way, he did understand Yukimura’s concern (as misplaced as it was.)  A part of him wanted to say that he would do his best to smile as often as possible for Yukimura’s sake, but Genichirou knew that the other would take offense to that.  At the same time, Genichirou knew that he would not smile often because the situations he landed in were not amusing in his mind (others who were involved or witnessed it would oftentimes find the amusement that he missed).

Yukimura merely grinned back at him, waving the racquet around as Genichirou moved to serve.  There still weren’t that many fancy moves (if he remembered correctly, this was around the time he created FuuRinKaInZanRai, his ultimate technique), but the game was enjoyable and still pushed him to his limit.  It was around this point that he saw Yukimura’s true ability (Yips) as they played.

Despite the growing terror in him as his senses were slipping away, Genichirou couldn’t help but feel that this was the best moment in his life—in a way, it was like those romantic scenes where everything fades away until the only thing left is those two people in love.  There was only him, the courts and Yukimura (but even those faded away as the game went on.)

It definitely wasn’t the most exhilarating match in his life—those came later during the Nationals Tournament of his last year in Rikkai Intermediate—but it was one of the most memorable.  By the end of that match, the sun had started to set and Genichirou knew that his mother would be worried.  However, when reaching his house, his mother had smiled (he still ignored the words she spoke about his “supposed age” and “sociability”) and told him to invite Yukimura for dinner.

It was an awkward affair, the dinner, as his parents and grandparents had the habit of sharing embarrassing stories about him.  He was certain that his cheeks were going to permanently stay dark red (yet, by the next morning, his cheeks had returned to their normal color.)  Instead of trying to futilely defend himself, Genichirou buried his head into his arms as his family members added to one another’s stories, trying to share the most they could about each experience.

Nevertheless, he somehow survived the mentally traumatizing situation (and silently vowed to never invite Yukimura over, only to break the vow two weeks later because his mother is scary and no matter what, he could never refuse an order from the woman who brought him to this universe).  However difficult he thought facing Yukimura would be the next day, the other never brought up those embarrassing stories (unless he needed new material to mortify Genichirou with), and they managed to keep up that easy-going relationship that the two had found they were dependent on.

The days quickly passed from then on, one day melding into the next, seeming like a never-ending dream—Genichirou wouldn’t want to wake up from it if it was actually a dream. 

Then, one day, that dream shattered even more with the reappearance of Yukimura’s father.  Genichirou could freely admit that he was biased (still is), but he hadn’t expected to somewhat _like_ the other. 

Honestly, had it not been for the dark blue hair (cobalt, his mind supplies unhelpfully), Genichirou might not have even made the connection.  He noted at that moment that Yukimura took more after his mother than his father—the comments about Yukimura being feminine (which he couldn’t deny as much as he wanted to) might have been true. 

Quickly, he disappeared into the school building, blindly running towards their classroom in hopes of warning Yukimura about his father (Genichirou quieted the voice in his head that said he was wrong—there was a very low possibility of someone _else_ having that color hair since it was the real world and not an anime.)

After a quick conversation with Yukimura (he couldn’t remember the words exchanged, yet Genichirou knew the words were rushed and almost stilted, however impossible it sounded), they both agreed on acting normal and not saying anything to alert others about a sudden, unexpected “guest”—no one would suspect that Genichirou’s behavior was out of the norm as he always rushed to see Yukimura whenever possible (if anything, he was a bit late since he spent some time staring at the man he marked as Yukimura’s cruel father).

The day passed without incident yet the next day, Genichirou knew that the man had visited Yukimura.  The others, their peers, couldn’t tell that Yukimura was acting any different, but Genichirou knew him better than that.

At lunch, he cornered his friend.  “Seiichi, what happened?”

Staring at the other, he could tell that Seiichi was shocked by the way his eyes widened, but Genichirou vividly remembered his thought at the moment.  _‘His eyes are pretty, like the sea that we stare at during the summer.’_  

“You… never called me that without prompting.”  Even though he knew it was Seiichi’s way of avoiding the question, Genichirou couldn’t help but blush—it was true.  However, knowing that the diversion was his own way of answering, Genichirou allowed his question to remain unanswered (his guess would have to suffice.)

If his guess was correct, he would say that Seiichi’s father had arrived at their house that night and there had been a fight between his parents.  Genichirou also had an idea of what happened—he would presume that the two waited for Seiichi to leave the room (most likely hoping that he wouldn’t hear the ensuing fight) and started to shout about the events that shattered their happy family years ago.

However, even that passed without incident, and Genichirou and Seiichi quickly forgot about his father’s existence.    Nothing noteworthy happened until their last year in Rikkai Middle School.  By then, Seiichi had established his position as the boy’s tennis team’s captain, and Genichirou was his vice-captain.  Their regulars (one of which was the remaining member that made up Rikkai’s Three Monsters) were already established to be the best of the best, and Genichirou found that he was satisfied with all this.

However, that didn’t mean that there wasn’t room for improvement—he wished that Niou would stop pulling off those _pranks_ , Yagyuu was a bit too unreadable, Marui would give himself diabetes at the rate he ate sweets, Jackal… was just weird, Akaya was a bit too impulsive (and he pointedly ignored Yanagi saying that he was the same), and Yanagi was plain creepy.  Yukimura was the only one who he could consider “perfect”.

Despite all the shortcomings each person had (and Genichirou admitted that he had many), the team worked _well_ together, despite everyone’s insistence.  He knew that, behind his back, that Yagyuu and Niou had something (what that something was, no one really wanted to know), and he also knew that there might be something between the Devil Ace (Akaya) and the Data Master (Yanagi) though that might just be fangirl speculation. 

“Genichirou, what are you thinking about?”  Seiichi’s voice brought him out of the daze that he was in, and he allowed himself to be swept away into the conversation.  It ranged from what he thought of this year’s team, which he offered his honest opinion on, to something mundane as his family life. 

As the conversation ranged further and further from tennis, something only Seiichi could pull off when with Genichirou, the other knew that something was up. However, he also knew that it wasn't his place to question his friend whenever the other was like this—it only served to drive a wedge between the two of them. It didn't mean that Genichirou didn't worry, though; it was quite the contrary.

As soon as Seiichi had left, Genichirou hunted down Yanagi to talk about the possible distractions for Seiichi—even Akaya, the least perceptive, knew that something was affecting the captain of the boys tennis team.  The possibilities ranged from increased stress (he was in charge of the beautification committee along with being the captain while maintaining a decent grade in school) to alien abduction (though Genichirou suspected that Yanagi only brought that up to mess with him.)

Those possibilities were proven to be wrong when Seiichi collapsed one day.  They were just leaving the school when that occurred.  Almost inaudible, Seiichi said something that made Genichirou’s blood run cold (even to this day, it has the same effect.)

“I can’t feel anything.” 

The words shattered Genichirou’s world.  He vaguely remembered being led to the hospital where Seiichi would reside, and he just wanted go out and drain this pent-up anger and frustration.  Instead, he stayed back to plan with Yanagi—they wanted to know what Seiichi had, and they wanted to know how to cure it.

“Yanagi, do you have any clues as to what it could be?”  Genichirou hated that helpless feeling he had, but he knew that it was better trying to find answers than beating the frustration out of him.  It was a nice feeling—he was being useful—but it only served to make him more anxious.

“I have one solid idea.”  Yanagi looked a bit bothered by what he believed to be the disease, which wasn’t something that Genichirou wanted to think about.  Instead, he waited patiently for the Data Master to continue. 

Yanagi continued on, stating that the symptoms matched up, and he revealed the disease he believed it to be (even to this day, Seiichi wouldn’t reveal what he had, allowing them to come up with their own theory.)  As the Data Master went on to explain the effects and the prognosis, Genichirou felt dread and anger.

He didn’t want Seiichi to relapse, didn’t want Seiichi to go through this again.  At the same time, he was angry that Seiichi was the one going through this, and that it wasn’t someone else (as horrible as he felt about anyone getting it, he rather it be them than Seiichi.)

Genichirou also knew that treatments were extreme—Seiichi would have to go through therapy along with some other extreme treatments.  Before he could dwell on it, and face that irresistible urge to thrash everything, Genichirou excused himself and retreated to his room to change perspective.  While it wasn’t in his character to just think that something was not right, he did not believe that Seiichi deserved this.

However, at the same time, he could believe that it was some type of test from his “father” (if anyone heard that, they would probably fall from shock—Genichirou made a “decent” joke about Seiichi (since Seiichi was the Child of God, and people oftentimes refer to hardships as a trial from God)—explaining it made it sound horrible).  Or maybe his human body was rejecting the angelic spirit that resided in it—maybe, in the future, when everything was settled, he would tell that joke to Seiichi.  However, Genichirou hoped, with all his heart, that his friend would be safe by the end of this, and hoped that Seiichi would have the ability to play tennis.

He continued on as best as he could, taking over for Seiichi and asking Yanagi for help whenever possible (because, contrary to Seiichi’s belief, Genichirou wasn’t so stubborn as to plow on when he knew it would be impossible without help).  The club didn’t exactly flourish the same way it would have under Seiichi’s command, but it didn’t exactly plummet to the lowest of the low.

There were times that Genichirou was certain that the other club members hated him (even more than before), and there were times that he believed that they loved him for some weird reason (he was the one that administered punishment, even before Seiichi’s hospitalization.)  The weird camaraderie Genichirou had with the regulars were the only thing keeping him attached to the courts during practice—if not for them, he would have abandoned it all to visit Seiichi, even if he would give Genichirou hell for skipping out on practice.

Belatedly, Genichirou wondered if this was actually what was bothering Seiichi.  Genichirou might not have been the brightest when it came to the medical field (his knowledge consisted of what could be found in the library and in the small collection of medicine books he kept at home), but he knew that the onset of symptoms were sudden and generally weren’t predicted.  However, this was Seiichi, and Genichirou knew that the other was unique—maybe Seiichi knew that this would happen.

The nagging in the back of his head said otherwise.  There must have been something else because there was no sense of relief, and the panic (however undetectable) that Seiichi had shown was genuine, not something that could be an act.  From that, Genichirou deduced that there was something else bothering Seiichi, and he vowed that he would get to the bottom of it. 

The visits, at the beginning, were short because it was awkward for Genichirou to be there and he felt as if he was just being a nuisance.  Seiichi, on the other hand, didn’t know what to talk about without feeling pained that he was missing out on something important as what the others were going through. 

Every day, except Sundays, for the next month, Genichirou would arrive with the homework, and he would spend time in the hospital working with Seiichi on it.  On Sundays, the two would talk about the horrors that were known as the regulars.  On the rare days that someone else accompanied Genichirou—the regulars only really started to consistently visit after the first month—they would quickly change the subject to something safe and normal.

When the regulars started to consistently visit, Genichirou started to wander around the hospital, inspecting everything.  He needed to make sure that everything was in the best condition it could be, and Genichirou knew that there was no one better for inspection than he himself. 

Seiichi brought it up suddenly, almost unexpectedly.  It was the subject that they both agreed on not breeching at the moment.  Genichirou was almost fearful of this subject—he knew only too well that something would happen.  He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about what that meant, but he knew that it would come up even if they promised not to mention it.

“Seiichi, I can’t define our relationship.  It’s almost romantic, but it’s not…  Do you understand what that means?”  Genichirou looked at his hands in his lap, hoping that Seiichi wouldn’t ask for him to define anything.

“Please enlighten me.”  Genichirou’s head snapped up at that, and he took the time to notice everything about the room in hopes of stalling.  He noted the stark whiteness of the room, of how Seiichi’s hair and clothes stood out against that white (blue and green respectively.) 

“I never noticed how _white_ this room is,” Genichirou said instead.  He’s right, of course, but he knew that it was only a tactic to avoid Seiichi’s question for a bit longer.  Genichirou considered going completely off tangent and commenting about the darkening sky, or about that song that Niou had shown the team (he found it from his sister, but Genichirou believes that the Trickster had a secret love for Vocaloids), but he knew that Seiichi would just wait for him to finish.

“As much as I like hearing about the lack of color in my hospital room, which should be white, I would like to hear your explanation more.”  The words that were uttered weren’t threatening in any way, but Seiichi’s frozen smile (his “super sadistic, bitch, I’ll kill you if you don’t do as I say” smile as dubbed by Niou) made any friendliness in those words disappear.  Instead, cold fear gripped him—Genichirou never knew anyone who withstood the smile and survived with their sanity intact. 

“The relationship we have is not considered normal.  While I may not mind what others say, what about you?  There’s a chance that others may attack you for being “in love” with me if we say it’s romantic.  If we say it’s platonic, we’d have to watch our actions.”  Genichirou hated laying all of this out, and he knew that Seiichi wouldn’t care either way—they could come out and say that it was neither, but that would be even harder to explain.

However, Genichirou knew that one of them had to say it, had to point out that their relationship was not what fell under the blanket of normality.  Seiichi was now looking at his lap, not bothering to respond to his words.   The silence was killing him, and he felt it necessary to speak up.  “Seiichi?”

“Does it really matter what others think, Genichirou?”  Seiichi looked up, and Genichirou could easily see that Seiichi honestly believed that he would be bothered by what others said about him.  It was ridiculous, in hindsight, to be worried about how the other would react to others.  They knew each other, and they should have known that nothing would have affected them as long as they had one another (as cheesy and sappy—unlike Genichirou—sounded.) 

Then the time for regionals hit.  The games were easily won until they hit the finals.  Rikkai was up against Seigaku, and Genichirou found that they were _good_ , but not as good as Rikkai is (is, because Genichirou would never let Rikkai’s standards fall, and neither would Yukimura.)  Genichirou wouldn’t admit it, but he was impressed by the team, especially since there was a _freshman_ on the regulars (or maybe, by chance, Seigaku’s standards fell but after watching a few games by Seigaku, Genichirou knew that to be the furthest thing from the truth.)

The game was nothing spectacular (just him being careless against the freshman), and he couldn’t remember anything about the game.  Or so he claims.  No one but Seiichi knew the truth, that he remembers each detail vividly, that he sometimes relives the most embarrassing match.  (Of course, Seiichi knew despite Genichirou’s denial of not caring enough about the lost to relive it.)

The horror, the absolute horror, he felt after it was announced that Seigaku won had been enough of a punishment (and Seiichi knew that; he always knew what Genichirou was feeling, even if it didn’t look like it.)  The others, he punished, and asked to be punished in return when he lost against Echizen Ryoma (and Niou slapped him first, not surprisingly), but it almost felt as if he had masochistic tendencies (or maybe being slapped seven times had screwed up his head so badly that day that he ventured towards Seiichi’s room for even more punishment).

However, instead of setting him some type of torture (even if he chose to seem oblivious to Seiichi’s extreme punishments, that didn’t mean Genichirou didn’t know about it), Seiichi smiled sweetly at him and said, “I’ll leave that up for grabs later.”  (Genichirou didn’t realize it then, but the agonizing over which punishment Seiichi would set for him was the punishment.)

Leaving the hospital room, he couldn’t help but to agonize as the amount of days Seiichi would be forced to stay in a bed got smaller and smaller.  Before Genichirou knew it, Seiichi was out and about, and the regulars immediately went to him like some _puppies_ would (more him than anyone else, but no one would dare call Genichirou a puppy to his face) and awaited his decision.

“Everyone, let’s practice,” he said cheerfully with a slight smile on his face.  (The regulars blanched in horror—while Seiichi had all rights to be happy, no one could help but think that something horrible would be inflicted upon them.) 

The regulars, while afraid of that smile, followed through, dutifully practicing for once (Seiichi never actually threatened them, but it was always an underlying statement when he smiled).  However, Genichirou also knew that Seiichi could be lenient (he’s seen the state of those Seiichi didn’t hold back on; it was enough to even tug at _his_ heartstrings.)

Despite the fact that it would ease the others, Genichirou didn’t mention that, and he amused himself by watching the other regulars flinch (even if they believed it to be unnoticeable) every time Seiichi would lock eyes with them.  They assumed Seiichi to be oblivious to this, but Genichirou knew better, and so wasn’t too surprised when they were called out on it.  Though, to be honest, he was a bit shocked that Seiichi would put it so blatantly (if anything, Seiichi was subtle, so a blunt Seiichi was not good news.

How right Genichirou was—the next morning, the other regulars looked like they’ve been through hell and back by the time he returned from his errand during practice.  (He blatantly ignored Niou’s comment about being “Captain ‘Mura’s” pet.)  Instead, he allowed himself satisfaction at their expense—Genichirou would never admit that he was pleased by their torture.

It had happened the same way in Nationals, except this time, it was Seiichi who lost to Echizen (then again, Genichirou sort of, not really, lost hope when the boy reached the Pinnacle of Perfection.)  Genichirou was there when Seiichi had broken because of that, and he allowed himself to be used as a pillow to cry into. 

At night, when the two were alone, Genichirou would sometimes whisper words of comfort that weren’t all that comforting in his mind, but Seiichi would always smile after hearing them, and he would always be told that his words meant a lot.

“Like the wolf and little red riding hood,” Renji had said suddenly one day.  When Genichirou asked what he meant by that, he only received a smile in response, and he had a feeling it had something to do with the story he was told briefly by Seiichi when they were in their first year.

Though, honestly, Genichirou couldn’t decipher the reason behind bringing it up—none of them were hopelessly in love, and there was no one that could fall under the category of unattainable—no one other than Seiichi, but there was no one who was truly in love with Seiichi that he would like back.  Yes, there was a chance that Seiichi liked someone, but that person shouldn’t have been unattainable.

That night’s dream is still vivid to this day, and Genichirou couldn’t help but think that the dream was some type of premonition (even if he scoffed at such ludicrous ideas).  That night, in his dream, he had wolf ears, and his friend, Seiichi, was donned in red while wearing a skirt (and he immediately cursed Renji for planting the idea of little red riding hood and the wolf into his head.) 

He followed Seiichi around a bit, hoping to find the end of his dreams, only to stumble further into world that his subconscious had created.  He didn’t mind too much—this dream was interesting enough, even if he didn’t pay much attention to the numerous amount of trees around them or the greenery that just didn’t know when it was too much (Genichirou thought the place could use a good trimming.)

Seiichi was wandering around, seeming to move aimlessly, but then he bumped into Genichirou purposely.  Just before Seiichi could say anything, his internal alarm clock awoke him—there was never a time that Genichirou hated his sleep schedule than then.  Glancing at the clock, which had “4:05” on it, Genichirou noted that he had awoken late (he would never tolerate any type of lateness, even if it meant that he gained five extra minutes of sleep).

Running out of the house, he entered the dojo to start his usual routine.  The day played out the same way, Seiichi attempted to teach them how to play tennis for fun (and Genichirou noted that there was no way Seiichi would attempt the same thing again, considering how… disastrous that attempt had been—all Genichirou knew was that there was no way he could ever invite the others out to “have fun” again, not that he’s ever done that.)

The dreams were becoming more and more frequent, and Genichirou hated the feeling of dissatisfaction he would get every time the dream would end before they could truly talk.  At times, it was frustrating enough that he wanted to confront Seiichi about it (yet he knew that it would only cause some type of awkward tension between the two of them if he was to do it.) 

Instead of doing something drastic such as talking to Seiichi about the recurring dream, he decided that it would be in his best interests to ignore it.  It succeeded to some extent—he wasn’t particularly irritated by it, but it never went away.

By the time they reached eighteen, technically “legal” to have sexual intercourse (he ignored all teasing by Niou, even if the “Trickster” did have a valid point), Seiichi and Genichirou agreed that they weren’t quite lovers but they weren’t quite friends.  There was something about their relationship that made it indescribable but he’d like to have it defined as “romantic”.

However, Genichirou was no fool like he was before, having those dreams about them being in love but forbidden from acting out on them, and he knew that there was no way that he could ever, ever tell Seiichi about wanting more than what he received (he was selfish at heart, and he would never admit that to anyone but Seiichi.)

Looking up from his book (Art of War, a classic, in his mind), Genichirou noticed that Seiichi went grocery shopping before arriving.  Following him into their too small kitchen, he watched the other magically fit all of those items in the refrigerator (even if said “frig” was way too small to hold much of anything). 

A brash move, something he wouldn’t have done under normal circumstances—and they weren’t normal in any situation—he pulled Seiichi close to him and embraced the other. 

“It’s about time,” Seiichi said in response. 

Pulling back slightly, Genichirou stared and said, “What do you mean?”

“The last time I got a hug or anything remotely close to that was when I was five.  I believe I deserve it, no?”  The playful smile on Seiichi’s face was anything but normal, and Genichirou found himself being pulled towards the bed (Seiichi’s bed.)

XxXxX

Genichirou looked up from his journal, and smiled.  It was nice to write down these memories; maybe one day he would feel brazen enough to share it with Seiichi, but it was nice to just have everything written in a book.

Omake

“So… Yanagi-senpai, has Sanada-senpai figured out why you called them little red riding hood and the wolf?”  Akaya asked with innocent curiosity.

“He might have an idea,” Renji replied with a secretive smile.  If anything, the resulting aftermath would be amusing enough to counter the punishment that he would be facing once Genichirou could put two and two together.

_‘It’s because you refer to your relationship that way, Genichirou.’  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Saru mo ki kara ochiru literally means "Even monkeys fall from trees", which is a Japanese proverb for "Anyone can make mistakes".
> 
> Also, there's a brief (somewhat) reference to Rin and Len's song, "The Wolf That Fell In Love With Little Red Riding Hood".


End file.
